He laughs at you, the sound of a madman falling from his lips. Yes, there's something off about this one. Still, as long as wait, no answer to your question comes. You're not offended. The drugs are beginning to settle into your body and you're finally getting to relax. Tendrils of the plant slowly grow their way up into your mind, creeping into the crevices and wrapping tightly around. They'll begin to squeeze soon, grab you and pull you down into a psychedelic pit where you'll wade around in the mud and muck for hours, or longer if you keep eating the plants in your mindlessness. You're not in the pit yet, but you're standing on the edge, ready for the vines to take you down.

Your bottom lip begins to fall and drool drips slowly from your lip down into the ocean. You watch as the stallion moves his ear forward. You hadn't noticed he was missing the other one until just now. There is no evidence that this is a new injury, though, so you must conclude he's been without for quite some time. Does it even matter? You doubt it, and therefore decide not to worry about it. Or maybe you don't decide at all. Maybe the plants grabbed at the thought and tore it out of your mind. You're ignoring them, and they're getting impatient. They can be a cruel and needy mistress at times.

The waves crashing against your limbs make you sway again, and you widen your stance in an effort to keep from toppling down. The water is cold and beginning to bite at your joints a little more than you think is desirable. You pick up your hoof to move, but something happens that makes you place it back on the ground. The bloodied stallion is moving towards you, stepping into the water. Even as the drugs are taking hold of your mind, you know that he's being stupid. Saltwater on the wound... you shudder. You like fighting as much as the next warrior, but you're no masochist. You don't do it to feel pain yourself. You do it to vent, take out your frustration, watch others bleed.

As he walks towards you, you watch him. As he comes closer, you get a better look at his eyes. They match his maniacal laughter. If this stallion is right in the head, then you're a Shetland pony. Flicking your ears towards him, you watch him come continue to come towards you. As much as you'd like to take him on in a fight for challenging you the way he is, you know that the drugs won't let you. You can try to fight their influence, but eventually they'll win. They always win. And when they do, you won't be a warrior at all. You'll be a strange, hollow casing of what you used to be.

So, instead of flaring your nostrils and preparing yourself for war, you take a step to your right and lower your nose to the waters. The saltwater stings your nostrils as it flows up and around, sometimes into, them. You toss your head a few times slowly, a threat to the stallion. Stop coming or I'll spray you, you seem to say with your actions. Or at least that's what you intend to say. Because really, that's all you have to do. Lower your nose a little farther into the water, throw your head up quite a bit harder and... splash. The thought of the stallion being in pain makes you grumble a little, in laughter.

For now, you just watch him. You will not splash him unless provoked further, and you're still not sure what his true intentions are. As much as you'd like to read him, you find the task difficult. There's little hint of anything besides craziness in the eyes he watches you with. Besides, you've got other things to analyze. You've got to figure out how you're going to get the madman back to glass-horn before your drugs take you down all the way. Or, alternatively, how to get the madman back while dealing with being high. You better think quick, though... the madman does not seem patient.

we all look for ways to make the pain go away